Choro de Potentes Viri
by OodHappenings
Summary: A MyMor fic for my dear friend, the EyeofMazikeen. Rated for content, warnings inside. Here they were once more. Another round of the dance. Choro de potentes viri. The dance of powerful men.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Alright then folks, here we have it. My gift to the EyeofMazikeen. I'm going to go ahead and explain a few things.**

1) This story is completely unaffiliated with the Circle series or any other series in the future.

2) This is an M fic for a reason. That's right folks. Sex, and of the bondage variety. Let the faint of heart (or, you know, anyone who isn't into that sort of thing) leave this place now.

3) Moriarty. As in _I SPEAK _in **EVERY** POSSIBLE vocal **combination. **

**BOLD **is for stress words. If it's capitalized, it's super important.

If its JUST capitalized, then he's accentuating the word, but not shouting it.

If its _italicized, _he's mocking or using general sarcasm. If _THAT'S _capitalized, he's shouting it as well.

Okay? Okay.

Enjoy.

**MHMHMHMHMHHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHM HMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHM**

Here they were once more.

_Darkness_

Another round of the dance.

_Footsteps._

Choro de potentes viri.

_the opening of a door._

The dance of powerful men.

_He's here._

"James Moriarty."

Th voice entered the room in his usual brass manner, his umbrella rapping on the concrete floor.

He heard him walk around the table.

Felt the scrape of burlap over damaged skin as he wrenched the bag from his face.

Blinked into the now blinding light of the room, his head spinning from the disorienting change.

"Glad to see that you're still with us."

Moriarty yanked at his cuffed hands involuntarily, wincing as the steel bit into his bruised wrists.

"Care to speak with me today?"

He turned his head to glare at the man before him.

The British Government.

Mycroft Holmes.

"Or not, the silence really doesn't suit you, you know. It's quite stifling really. Honestly I had been led to believe that you were quite the chatty sort."

He shrugged, seating himself on the edge of the table nearest the consulting criminal.

"It's a pity, truly."

He picked at a bit of lint on his collar.

"I nearly find myself wondering what your voice really sounds like."

Moriarty simply stared at him, his impossibly large brown eyes boring into the British Government.

Without any preamble his hand lashed out, grasping Moriarty's chin in a vice like grip.

He leaned in, hot breath scalding bruised skin.

"You know that all you have to do to end this is to speak. Just one word and I can make the pain stop."

Moriarty smirked, his cuffed hand snagging the cloth of Mycroft's trousers.

He tilted his head up fractionally, his smirk blossoming into a full blown grin.

More than a month in captivity, and not a word spoken.

Until now.

"Maybe I don't want it to stop."

His voice was broken, rough from disuse, the words little more than a cracked whisper.

Yet he still managed a lyrical quality.

Mycroft sat back, releasing the man's face.

If he was surprised by Moriarty's sudden outburst, it didn't show.

Instead he simply and stood, walking behind the chair before stopping.

"See there? That wasn't so difficult was it?"

Moriarty tilted his head to the side, his gaze still resting firmly forward at the steel door.

Now came the question.

The one that was the center point to every encounter.

"What is your scheme James? What is your plan?"

The man shuddered, his next words spoken softly, near monotone.

"Why do you care?"

Mycroft scoffed.

"What?"

Moriarty's head straitened, his voice turning hard, a shout.

"Why. Do. You. Care."

He slammed his hands against the metal arms of his chair, the chains of his cuffs rattling noisily.

"It's integral to insuring the safety of-"

"The _peoples of the nation. _I KNOW. YOUR FUCKING. SPIEL."

Silence filled the room as Moriarty fought to contain his emotions, and Mycroft waited.

"That is not what I asked. I asked why you care. YOU. Mycroft fucking Holmes. It's a one word answer. We both know this one. Say it with me."

He opened his mouth, but sensed that the politician was making no move too comply.

"SAY IT."

"Sherlock."

The grin that split the psychopath's features could only be described as delighted.

"_See there? That wasn't so HARD was it?"_

Mycroft sighed, removing his jacket while walking around the table.

He hung it carefully over the back of the opposite chair, before rolling up his sleeves.

"Do you intend to mock me now that you've found your voice? That seems dreadfully dull, does it not?"

Moriarty rolled his eyes, disgust contorting his features.

"What seems awfully dull, _Mycroft,_ is your, well let's call them antiquated methods of information gathering."

He shrugged, cocking his head drastically to the side.

"I mean _everyone _uses the old, bruise and beat method. You rough 'em up-"

He punched his hands in the air.

"-forget to feed and water them occasionally."

He twitched his nose.

"Deny them personal hygiene until it's unbearable to share a room with them."

Another shrug.

"Then you clean 'em up, dress them real nice, and truss them up in a _quaint little cell_ while you PESTER THE HELL OUT OF THEM."

Moriarty sighed, hanging his head.

"And here I was under the impression that the British Government himself was interrogating me. _How depressing _to discover that it's little more that an over grown cupcake in a suit. My GOD could you be anymore **BORING**!"

Mycroft smirked, just the faintest of twitches at the corner of his mouth.

Without another word he stood and flung open the door stepping out side and slammng it behind him.

Well now.

That's a change pace.


	2. Chapter 2

He was left there for what seemed like hours.

_Silence_

This was a new twist in the game.

_Was that him returning?_

For once this may not be boring.

_Or am I simply mistaken?_

Moriarty glanced around the room, his fingers drumming quietly against the metal of the chair.

"Mycroft? Oh_ Mycroft_? _**Wherefore art thou** MYCROFT._"

He pulled the nail that he had pulled from the table earlier out of the flesh of his palm, contorting his damaged hands to pick at the lock of his hand cuff.

The door slammed open then,revealing not the British Government, but another man.

Tall, handsome, blonde hair coiffed.

Military dress immaculate, his posture rigid.

Moriarty supposed that he was supposed to look intimidating.

His eyes showed that he was completely terrified.

Good.

"Mr. Holmes is indisposed at the moment. You will address me as Sir, and you will only speak when spoken to."

He coughed, loosening his tie slightly as his eyes flitted about.

"You will obey all commands and do exactly as I say. Understood?"

The criminal snorted his keening laughter unsettling the man beofre him.

"You sent me _**this**_? Mycroft Mycroft** Mycroft**! _Who_ would have_ guessed_ what YOU were into."

The soldiers ears burned red at Moriarty's insinuations.

He strode forward and slapped him.

Hard.

Moriarty's ears rang and his jaw clicked.

He grinned.

"Oh Sir! _Sir_, may I _ask_ a question**_ Sir_**?"

The man rolled his eyes, but waved his hand impatiently.

"Have you ever **fucked** a madman-"

He glanced at the insignia on the soldiers chest and rolled his eyes.

"- _Colonel _? Ever had a man at all?"

The man's eyes widened and he shifted, ready to smack the consulting criminal once more.

_"No_? DIDN'T THINK SO. _So tell me_, what would your _wifey_ think of this 'little escapade?' How are you going to explain-"

He kicked his legs out, striking the soldier in the shin and sending him crashing forward.

Moriarty jerked up his now-uncuffed hand to dig his fingers into the soldiers hips, while he sunk his teeth viciously into the junction of the man's shoulder, sucking lightly, before adding another, harder mark higher onto his neck.

The man screamed and flailed, earning him more bruises and finger marks.

On his torso, his upper arms.

Three guards stormed in, two of the wrenching the soldier away from Moriarty, while the other restrained the criminal's legs.

"-that."

The room was filled with shouts and cries of pain, while Moriarty simply grinned, a mix of his and the soldier's blood dribbling down his chin.

More restraints were brought in, his feet were shackled to the chair, his head braced, hands clamped directly to the chair.

They left him like that, grinning madly and completely restrained.

He tried to roll his neck made irritatingly impossible by his restraints.

"The _thing_ is Mycroft."

He licked the blood from his lips.

"Even in here, bound and beaten, **I** am in** CONTROL**."

He flicked his fingers up, eyes searching the wall in front of him.

"I just ruined your _Colonel's_ marriage. He worked a desk job in your office, so she won't believe that it had actually been a_ prisoner_."

He chuckled.

"No._ N__o _her _**mind**_ sees those bruises and marks and it jumps straight to _**mistress**_. _**Cheating**_. I left him covered in stereotypical marks of passion. All in a matter of _Seconds. "_

He laughed again, his eyes resting n the small black globe that housed his cell's security camera.

"If you want information then you have to TAKE _control. _Lock me up, chain me down what good does _that _do?"

His fingers twitched reflexively.

"No. Step out of your _comfort __zone_ Mycroft Holmes. Don't be _boring_. Take your information. Take it. TAKE IT. But you have to **take** _me."_

**_MHMHMHMHMHMH_**

In his office Mycroft Holmes sat in his favorite oak chair, feet propped on his desk while he swirled a tumbler of scotch in his hand.

He let out a weary sigh before clicking the play button on the video file simply marked URGENT.

He watched as the interrogator he chose waltzed into the room with enough false bravado to make even he visibly cringe.

"I told him to become Colonel Moran, not a bad theatrical impression."

He saw the exchange between the men, his eyes scanning the captions on the screen.

Mycroft felt himself smirk at the madman's swift deduction of what the scenario entailed.

"Well done."

His eyes widened in surprise a the show of strength and cunning that the man displayed.

"Clearly I've underestimated you James Moriarty."

The politician felt a far too unfamiliar pull as he watch those lips descend upon unsuspecting flesh, felt the tightening as the fingers scrabbled against skin.

Mycroft found himself inexplicably pulled to the whole scene, though all of his faculties scream that it was wrong, immoral.

Then again, he was a politician.

He watched as the guards bound the man, saw the mad grin that crossed Moriarty's features as they did so.

The way his already near-black eyes darkened.

The dangerous blush to his bruised cheeks.

He saw his name once more mentioned, and risked turning on the audio, leaving the captions on for fear of missing a word.

A sign.

"Even in here, bound and beaten, **I** am in** CONTROL**. I just ruined your _Colonel's_ marriage. He worked a desk job in your office, so she won't believe that it had actually been a_ prisoner_."

That chuckle, the hollow echo of a shallow victory.

Empty.

"No._ N__o _her _**mind**_ sees those bruises and marks and it jumps straight to _**mistress**_. _**Cheating**_. I left him covered in stereotypical marks of passion. All in a matter of _Seconds. "_

Again with a laugh, and Mycroft wore now despite all logic, that the man was staring strait at him, looking him in the eye as he spoke.

"If you want information then you have to TAKE _control. _Lock me up, chain me down what good does _that _do?"

Mycroft's eyes darkened, and he surreptitiously palmed himself through his trousers.

"No. Step out of your _comfort __zone_ Mycroft Holmes. Don't be _boring_. Take your information. Take it. TAKE IT. But you have to **take** _me."_

Mycroft smirked.

After all if that wasn't a sign, he didn't know what was.


	3. Chapter 3

The door slammed open no preamble to the gesture.

In truth, Moriarty had not even heard feet in the hall.

He saw Mycroft move long before the man had perched on the edge of the table, his open thighs mere inches from Moriarty's body the chair.

"Mr. Moriarty."

The criminal smiled.

"**Mycroft**, how_ good_ of you to join me."

His eyes moved to gaze at the politician's crotch.

"I see that _you_ came prepared."

Mycroft smirked, his nose wrinkling with the venom of it.

"Yes. It appears you have left me in a most undesirable position. I'm afraid that I'll have to act upon this."

Moriarty rolled his eyes, a frown fixing itself firmly into place.

"**S**_**eriously?**_Of _every possible line_ to drop THAT is the one you choose. _Honestly_ it's like all of your pick up lines comes from cheap porn and-"_  
_

The politician sighed, unwinding his tie from his neck before wrapping it around his hands.

"James you are asking for me to gag you."

He smirked.

"**Now** you're talking. **_Sir_**."

He purred the last word, forcing Mycroft to shift in his seat, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Then again I'd miss that...wit of yours."

Moriarty grinned madly.

"You wouldn't miss the **_wit_**, _sir_, if you would move this** ALONG**."

Mycroft smirked once more, sliding forward slightly.

"What will it take to get the information I need from you?"

Moriarty slammed forward in his seat, the burn of the head restrain biting into his skin.

"_Hit_ me. _Touch_ me. **DO** something. Don't just let me sit here all _soft_ and _defenseless_ while you ask nicely for information. _Make_ me give it To you. Just fucking _**touch me**_."

The politician smiled.

A genuine smile.

"What?"

One that had Moriarty's anger clenching in his troat.

His body calming within his bonds.

"WHAT?"

He was absolutely terrified.

Mycroft stood, taking painstaking care not to allow any contact between himself and the madman before him.

He walked around him slowly, allowing just enough distance so that Moriarty could feel the heat radiating from him.

He slowly unlatched the head restraint, the tear of the Velcro painfully loud in the still silence of the room.

"You see James."

Moriarty frowned at the use of that name, but said nothing, instead flexing his neck slightly with the freedom it had regained.

"I have you caught in exactly the scenario that I desire."

The madman began to shake.

Fury and barely concealed disappointment vibrating through his body.

His jaw clicked into a pout, signally to the British Government that the current talkative mood was over.

"You leave me no choise really."

Mycroft said after a time, his fingers tracing the forming bruise on the madman's head.

He shiver at the heat of the politician's fingers tracing his damaged skin.

"It will be as you wish."

Moriarty turned abruptly, impossibly dark eyes brimming with anticipation.

Want.

Defiance.

Mycroft trailed his wandering fingers lower, running them down Moriarty's jawline, pressing on each bruise lightly, drawing hisses of pain from clenched teeth.

"All you have to do, James, is speak. One word and I'll stop."

He stepped back, gaining a glare from the madman.

"Or not. It's entirely your decision."

Silence.

Mycroft dug his fingers in, pressing into his collar bone and under the collar of his t-shirt, finding a particularly painful bruise and twisting, pulling the skin.

The consulting criminal couldn't fight the moan that ripped from his throat.

His teeth bared down. clicking as Mycroft's hand explored.

He brought his hand back up and savagely gripped the criminal's jaw, twisting his face to meet him.

Moriarty felt the sharp digging in his jaw.

Felt the involuntary tears burn behind his eyes.

He fought the urge to resist, instead focusing on the pain.

The closeness.

The contact.

God was it arousing.

He wanted more.

So much more.

"You will not move. Not one muscle unless I tell you. Do you understand?"

The madman didn't move.

Didn't even blink.

He understood perfectly.

And god did he want to obey.

Mycroft pulled a pair of cuffs from his pocket, keying open the arm restraint at te dame time as he clicked it over Moriarty's wrist.

He opened both leg shackles slowly, letting his hands run across the cloth covered skin.

For his part, Moriarty held himself admirably, barely twitching when Mycroft grinned at -and then caressed-the prominent bulge in his trousers.

Nor did he visible react when the feather light touches of the man between his knees turned into full fledged groping.

He bit his lip to keep from moaning, earning a reprimanding pause from Mycroft.

The politician looked up from his crouch, only to stare at the underside of the madman's jaw.

"I do believe that I specifically instructed you not to move."

All of Moriarty's muscles went ridged, his teeth releasing his lip.

"Better."

Mycroft spread Moriarty's legs, hands lightly trailing over his inner thighs.

The madman dutifully remained still, despite the urge to leap up and attack Mycroft.

"I'm to remove your trousers now. You will lift your hips and allow it. Any objections must be vocalized."

Moriarty simply swung his legs up on either side of the politician, bracing his legs against the bolted down table in front of them.

Mycroft smirked, gripping the waist band at the awkward angle and tugging, trousers and underwear rubbing against the bruised flesh of the madman's thighs.

As soon as they were to his knees, Mycroft gripped the legs beside him and forced them down.

The criminal hissed as the cold metal hit his ass, and then again as Mycroft's tongue found it's way to his now exposed cock.

One firm lick up his shaft had garnished a more vocal response than he had wanted to give, but _fuck _if that felt good.

Mycroft pulled back, his hands still on Moriarty's thighs, but nowhere near close enough to where he wanted them.

"You know-"

He stated, rubbing his fingers over the bruises on the criminal's thighs.

"I'm seeing three possible directions at this point."

He dug into one particularity nasty bruise, earning a gasp and an excited twitch from Moriarty.

"The first, I simply suck you to completion in this position, leaving you satisfied and me completely aroused."

He ghosted a warm breath over the madman's cock, earning a shiver.

"The second, I bring you to the brink over and over again until your keening, only to bend you over the table and fuck you until I'm sated, regardless of your condition."

That one struck a cord.

He saw Moriarty's hand clench and his breathing quicken.

"Or the third, and most agreeable. I do both."

Jet-black eyes peered down at him from above, terror and unbridled lust filling them.

"The thing is, I need to know which one you would prefer."

His hands continued there rhythm of caressing and digging.

No response.

"Which will it be James?"

The madman's eyes closed as Mycroft ran a finger over his shaft.

"Or will I simply have to leave you like this and go deal with me self elsewhere."

Those eyes flew open and he jerked forward.

"Three!"

His unshackled wrist flew to his mouth, the handcuff hanging from it.

Mycroft chuckled, before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

"See James? That wasn't so terribly difficult."

Moriarty simply glared at him, rolling his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

"**Fine**. You got me. I spoke. Now, _get on with it."_

The politician obliged, lowering is lips to surround the head of Moriarty's cock, his tongue flicking the slit.

He moved with agonizing restraint, slow movements dragging guttural moans from the madman's throat.

Moriarty went to touch the politician's head, and was met with a strong hand pulling his wrist away, clicking the other cuff over his still bound wrist.

"Oh _come on_."

The politician hummed, sending electricity through the madman.

Moriarty strained in his seat, fighting the urge to thrust his hips up.

To wrap his legs around the British Government and take.

He shivered as talented lips constricted and released, tight, wet heat focusing his thoughts.

Cheeks hollowed and he saw stars, his ears ringing as the madman came to the edge.

He felt himself shout, the words lost behind the white noise of his climax.

There was no chance for him to come down slowly.

No reprieve.

Mycroft's hands were already getting back to work, caressing and massaging the over-sensitized flesh, sending shock waves of arousal through the madman.

"Are you just going to sit there and torture me or are you going to do something about _that." _

He pointed a finger at extremely obvious bulge in the politician's trousers.

Mycroft frowned, confused.

"Have you forgotten exactly why you are here?"

Moriarty's smirk fell.

Oh.

Right.

It was torture.

Shit.

Mycroft saw the slip in personality and knew that perusing the crack in the facade would hinder any further attempts at gathering information.

"Or are you simply that desperate for a good fuck?"

Moriarty took the escape to nod.

"_Thank you_ for finally getting SOMETHING right."

Mycroft simply nodded, standing from his crouch and stretching languidly.

The madman enjoyed the up-close-and-personal view of the politician's body, his own body responding to it.

There was the sound of metal clicking against metal as Mycroft quickly keyed open the second cuff, leaving Moriarty only bound to himself.

"Dangerous thing that you've done here _sir_."

Mycroft hummed, seating himself on the table.

"Possibly, though I'm sure that the you'll behave yourself."

Moriarty grinned devilishly, moving to his knees on the cold concrete before Mycroft could register the change.

He pressed himself again's Mycroft's legs, face nuzzled against his crotch.

The politician's breathing hitched slightly.

"May I deal with this-"

He pressed his mouth against the bulge, moist heat enveloping Mycroft's senses.

"-_sir_?"

He shivered, but steeled himself.

" I don't believe that this-"

Another skillfully placed movement of the madman's tongue.

"-is what we agreed upon James."

Moriarty shrugged, bringing his cuffed hands up to undo the fly of Mycroft's trousers.

"It's m you want the information from, shouldn't it be me who-"

Mycroft backed himself into the table, gripping the criminals cuffed hands and jerking him to a stand, hands above his head.

"Let me tell you one thing, and i'll make it very clear."

He spun their positions around slamming Moriarty's waist into the table, cuffed hands still above his head.

"The only one in control here is me. understood?"

Moriarty nodded, the jolt of pain igniting his thus far waning arousal.

"YES SIR."

Mycroft grinned, pulling the madman's arms back just enough for the muscles to burn before leaning in, his breath hot against the smaller man's ear.

"I had hoped that you would behave long enough for me to bring you to the brink again and again and again."

He gripped Moriarty's hip with a free hand, yanking his ass back to grind his own hips against it.

"But as you can see your behavior has made that concept irrelevant."

He bit at a particularly nasty bruise that peeked out from under the madman's shirt.

"I do believe it's time that we progressed to the main portion, don't you?"

The criminal barely whimpered.

Mycroft sighed, tugging harder at his arms.

"I do believe I asked you a question James."

Moriarty gasped.

"**Yes**. _Sir_. I DO _agree_...sir."

Mycroft released the cuffs, the sudden lack of support sending the criminal face first onto the table.

Moriarty groaned as the politician gripped his hips, the angle keeping him from moving his hands anywhere near his already straining erection.

He heard a soft ripping noise before he felt liquid ice pour between his spread ass cheeks.

He hissed at the cold and then groaned at he burn of a slick finger probing at his entrance.

The madman forced himself to relax around the sudden intrusion, willing away the tension to alow the pleasure pain of it all

One fingers became two and two became three as Mycroft was quick with his preparations, knowing that the criminal beneath him would not last for too much longer.

Moriarty registered the sound of a foil packet opening and felt the sudden loss of contact as the politician rolled on the condom.

Another rip attention what was presumably another packet of lube being applied to Mycroft's cock while Moriarty fidgeted impatiently, cock pressed painfully against the cold metal table, twitching with anticipation.

Mycroft gripped Moriarty's hips once more, fingers diggining into flesh as he sheathedhimself quicklY, a strangled cry choking from the madman's mouth.

Neither man moved as they adjusted, Moriarty to the sudden painful fullness, and Mycroft to the excruciatingly tight heat.

"Moriarty moaned and wriggled his hips in an attempt to get the larger man to move,but Mycroft refused.

"Tell me."

The criminal grunted slamming his hips back forcefully.

The politician withdrew completely.

"Tell me James."

Moriarty grit his teeth, before shouting.

"**Fuck me**! _**Please**_ just fucking _**fuck me**_."

Mycroft obliged, lining himself up once more before slamming in, bringing tears to Moriarty's eyes.

A few shallow strokes had the criminal moaning, and then he thrust in deeper, driving himself straight into the madman's prostate.

He screamed, white blurring the edges of his vision with the sensation of it.

Mycroft kept up the pace, a few short strokes and a slam, bringing Moriarty to the edge and backing him from it.

It was only as he himself neared his climax that the rhythm changed.

He pulled nearly completely out with each stroke, slamming back in viciously and repeating, over and over again.

Mycroft reached around and gripped Moriarty's leaking cock in his hand, giving two sharp stroked before the mad man came once more, his cum coating the table top and setting the his own shirt in the process.

A few more stuttering thrusts and Mycroft was coming aswell, his release adding to the excruciating fullness the criminal already felt.

Mycroft stepped back, billing out and peeling off the condom, tying the end and tossing it into the wastebasket at the corner of the celL

He tucked himself into his trousers once more, straightening each button while Moriarty remained rawled in a pudle lf his own come.

Sated.

He began rattling of various words and number sequences that Mycroft didn't understand.

He didn't have to.

They were on film.

Without another word Mycroft Holmes left James Moriarty.

Spent.

Cold.

Alone.

And in Silence.


End file.
